14. Courtney
CHAPTER 14
COURTNEY
S team swirls around me, the hot water cascading down my back almost enough to wash away the tension knotted between my shoulder blades.
Almost, but not quite.
Because as I close my eyes, it’s Jakob’s touch that lingers on my skin — a ghost of a caress that stirs something deep within me, something I’m not ready to name.
The droplets mingle with memories, and I lean my forehead against the cool tile. It’s ludicrous, really, how just a single evening has imprinted him so indelibly in my mind. If only he were just Jakob — just a man with a charming smile and an easy laugh. Not Prince Jakob of Bergovia, entangled in a tale of accusation and stolen heirlooms. And definitely not the man who believes my own sweet grandmother is a thief.
A sudden, urgent ringing cuts through my thoughts, and my heart leaps. Jakob told me to be ready for eleven thirty, but maybe he’s early.
The possibility propels me out of the shower with a haste that leaves caution — and a trail of water — behind me.
I grab the towel and wrap it around myself, rushing out into the main room of the hotel suite. Water drips onto the carpet as I snatch up the phone, my pulse thrumming with a blend of hope and trepidation, not even bothering to check the name on the screen.
“Hello?” My voice is breathless, a hum of steam.
“Hey, Court! Have you had any big adventures yet?”
It’s Ginny. Disappointment sours the hope, but it’s quickly tempered by the familiarity of my best friend’s voice. She always had a knack for lightening my spirits, and I hadn’t realized till now just how badly I’ve been missing her.
“Hey, Gin,” I say. “You could say that.”
“Spill it, girl. You sound like you’ve got a story.” Her intuition never fails; she reads my silences as clearly as my words.
I can’t help but smile, despite the conflict that still resides in my heart.
“I’m not sure you’ll believe it, though,” I say, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I use the towel to dry myself off. “I’ve had more than my share of adventures.”
“Ooh, you gotta tell me now!”
Taking a deep breath, I launch into the tale that sounds too fantastical to be real, even to my own ears. “I met this guy, Jakob. We spent the night together…” My words falter for a moment, but I shake off the hesitation. “Then I woke up to him taking that sapphire necklace Grandma left me.”
“Wait, what?! He stole from you?” Her voice is sharp and angry.
“Yes, but there’s more.” I hesitate, considering how insane the next part sounds. “He’s a prince, Gin. Of Bergovia. And he says the necklace is actually his family’s heirloom.”
Silence crackles over the line before Ginny exhales a long, slow whistle. “Courtney, that’s… wow . That’s not your usual type at all.”
I burst into laughter. “You’re right. I don’t usually go for princes,” I say sarcastically. “I went and found him after he took the necklace, and he… he offered to show me around Bergovia, like some kind of personal tour guide.”
“Really?” She gets quiet.
“I know.” I bite my lip. “Is that weird?”
“He stole the necklace, and now he wants to hang out with you? If it were anyone else, I would say yes, it’s weird. But this is you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Girl, it means you have no clue how hot and cool you are.”
My cheeks warm. “I dunno…”
“You think he has some ulterior motive?”
“Maybe?” I sigh. “I don’t know what that would be, though, so maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“Or it’s your intuition.”
“Hold on; I’m going to do some quick digging.”
Phone still pressed to my cheek, I open up my laptop. My fingers fly over the keys, pulling up a search engine. I type in “Bergovia royal family, sapphire necklace” and hit enter, my heart thumping against my ribs. Images begin to populate the screen, and there it is — a black-and-white photo of a regal woman, her confident gaze timeless. Around her neck is the unmistakable glimmer of the sapphire necklace.
“So, from what I can see, he’s telling the truth about the necklace.” I zoom in on the image, the stones catching the light even in the grainy photograph. “I found a picture of Jakob’s great-grandmother wearing it.”
“Okay, so maybe he wasn’t lying about it being his family’s. But that doesn’t explain how it ended up with your grandma.”
“Exactly.” I sit down on the bed, the pieces of the puzzle jumbling in my head. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I just can’t see your grandma doing something like that,” Ginny insists. “There’s got to be more to Jakob’s story.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I admit, chewing on my lower lip. “But what can I do? It’s not like I can waltz into his family’s vault and take it back.”
“True,” Ginny concedes with a laugh, though there’s a hint of mischief in her tone. “But wouldn’t that be an adventure? Just imagine sneaking around a royal palace. Very Ocean’s Eight , minus the heist part.”
The corners of my mouth tilt up. “Tempting, but I’m pretty sure it’s tucked away behind steel doors and laser grids by now. Anyway, it belongs to them. Jakob was right. I shouldn’t demand it back… I can’t demand it back.”
“Then at least promise me you’ll have fun,” Ginny urges. “Don’t let this prince stop you from enjoying Bergovia.”
I bite my lip again. Usually, I tell my best friend everything, but I’m hesitant to reveal that Jakob is the biggest thing I’m enjoying about Bergovia.
“And stay safe,” she adds before we say our goodbyes.
Hanging up, I shake off the last remnants of doubt and grab my clothes. A glance at the clock tells me Jakob will be here any minute. I slip into a simple sundress, its fabric brushing against my skin and making me feel free and lighter than I’m used to.
There’s a knock on the door just as I’m fastening the clasp on my sandals — a sound that sends my heart into a gallop. I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself, and open the door to find Jakob standing there, his presence commanding even in a T-shirt and jeans.
“Good morning,” he says, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that feels as if it’s just for me.
“Morning,” I manage.
His smile is disarming, and as I step out of the hotel room and follow him to his car, I’m acutely aware of the conflicting currents within me. He’s hurt me, yet there’s an undeniable magnetism about him that I can’t ignore.
We get into the car, and as he navigates the city streets, I steal glances at him. Each look reveals more layers — the relaxed set of his shoulders, the softness in his eyes when he speaks of his homeland. This man is a tapestry of contrasts — royal and rogue, distant and disarmingly close.
And as we drive on to whatever awaits us this morning, the city unfolding before us, no matter what happens next, I’m captivated. By the mystery, by the country, by Jakob himself.
He ends up parking on a side street, coming around to open the car door for me before my touch is even on the handle. It’s so unexpected, so gentlemanly, that heat rises in my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I murmur, trying not to read into the fact that he came alone today. No driver. No security guards.
Just me and him. Alone.
He guides me through a narrow alley, his hand gently resting on the small of my back. The hidden path seems almost secretive, as if we’re slipping into another world far from the rest of the city.
“Here we are,” he announces, stopping in front of an unassuming wooden door that I would have walked past without a second glance. The sign above reads “Kuchyně srdce” in faded paint — the heart’s kitchen, if my limited grasp of the language serves me right.
We step inside, and the cozy warmth envelops us immediately. “What is this place?”
“Trust me, this is the best-kept secret in Bergovia,” Jakob whispers, a hint of pride lacing his words.
The restaurant is quaint, with only a handful of tables cloaked in red-checkered tablecloths. A fire crackles quietly in a stone fireplace, the flames dancing merrily. We choose a corner spot, secluded from the few patrons scattered about.
No sooner have we settled than a pair of elderly women at a nearby table glance in our direction. Their eyes widen, and they begin to chatter fervently to each other, casting furtive glances toward Jakob.
“Looks like you’ve been recognized,” I murmur.
He lets out a soft sigh, a small frown creasing his brow. “It happens,” he says, reaching for the menu. “I prefer to avoid it when I can. The attention can be… overwhelming.”
The way he says it, I believe him. Despite his loyalty to his country — and I’ve done my research and read all about it — he’s also a man who wants to carve out a piece of normalcy in a life that has been anything but.
“Is it hard?” I ask, tilting my head. “Being in the public eye all the time?”
“Sometimes,” he says, his voice lowering. “But I love my country, and I try to do what’s best for it. Being a celebrity isn’t part of that job description.”
“What do you love most about your country?” I ask, eager to deflect the conversation away from the vulnerability I see in him.
The question seems to lighten his mood. A smile plays on his lips as he leans back contemplatively.
“Well,” he begins, his eyes taking on a faraway look, “I love the people. Their resilience, their spirit. You won’t believe how warm people here can be, despite the hardships they’ve had to endure.” He turns his gaze on me, sincerity shining in its depths.
“I know I’ve only been here for a few days… but I love it. Is it strange to say I never want to leave?”
Something sparks in his eyes — he looks excited, maybe afraid… but then it’s quickly gone as he leans back towards the table. “I don’t blame you for that at all.”
I look down at the menu, suddenly embarrassed, afraid I’ve said too much, not wanting him to think that he’s the reason I want to stay here. And he’s not. Well… not the main reason, anyway.
“What’s the best thing on the menu here?” I ask, desperate to change the conversation.
His face lights up, and it’s like the sun breaking through clouds. “Everything is good here, but their goulash is legendary.”
“Legendary goulash,” I repeat, feeling a laugh bubbling up inside. “Sounds like an adventure in itself.”
He chuckles. “Courtney Fuller, every moment with you is an adventure.”
I freeze. There it is. The way his eyes shine when he looks at me, the way they dart to my lips…
My heartbeat picks up. Jakob suddenly sucks in a sharp breath, and, as if realizing what he’s doing, he gestures for the waitress.
“I’ll order all of the best,” he says, not looking at me.
“Sure.” I nod, my gaze falling down, a lump in my throat.
I’m doing what I told Ginny I would do. I’m having a good time. Underneath that good time, though, something else bubbles. The awareness of the possibility that Jakob might be interested in me for something more than casual friendship.
And that scares me more than anything else.